Past Shadows
by yoo-hoo luver.wlegs
Summary: While traveling towards the Circle Tower to gain its support against the Blight, Amell can't help but recall her first trip across Lake Calenhad. ZevranXAmellXAlistair triangle if you squint and stand on one leg.


The Circle Tower was just as cold and foreboding as it was before, despite the darkspawn blood within her. She knew that she was now a Grey Warden, first and foremost, before being a mage, and that the tower should have no sway over her. Yet as Alistair, Sten and Zevran boarded the little boat that would take them to the tower, Danae froze in her spot.

Her hesitation seemed to go almost unnoticed. Carroll was nibbling on his cookie as he prepared to make way and as Sten glared at him. Alistair was looking sea sick already. Zevran stepped into the boat with a spring in his step. He turned and flashed the mage a winning smile.

"Allow me," He offered with extended hand. Alistair, not wanting to be outdone by the "overdone" elf, countered the offer and almost capsized the vessel.

Danae settled into the boat between the two. She could not help but recall with a silent, ironic laugh that she entered Kinloch Hold before sitting between a templar and an elf just as she did now. She was a small child of six then; a small, freckled little thing straight from a small town in the Bannorn.

The templars from the Chantry at her home village had borne her to the village near Lake Callenhad's docks where they met the templars from the Tower. The village appeared to be the dropping off of point for other tower bound children, for there was an elven girl of about twelve or thirteen standing behind the waiting templars.

One of the elf's eyes was swollen shut, her lower lip was split and a bandage was wrapped around her left leg. Danae had a sneaking suspicion that the elf's appearance was brought on by those new men and she had stopped in mid step.

The templar commander that had escorted her put a guiding hand on her back. Knight-Commander Faysal was not the most sympathetic of men, yet Danae had known him her entire life. He had tolerated her out of familial but after her powers were discovered, Faysal's voice had been the loudest in the decision to send her away. Her magic had taken its fair share of his men. He must have been glad to be rid of her.

"Make haste, child." He had commanded, ushering her forward.

Danae could recall looking behind her at the four templars that had escorted her there. They were half of the town's templars and despite three of them being related to her twice removed, they did not give any reassuring signs.

"Is this the mage from Caiaphas?" A rough looking templar with a scar cutting a path through his right cheek had asked. Danae recalled that he had looked like the sort of man who would kidnap small children. She realized as an adult how right that assessment was.

"Yes, Danae Amell." Fayad had replied, all business.

"Ah, the one with the flying weapons." The other templar had responded, recalling the story that went with her. He had appraised her with a malicious curl of his lip. "Truth be told, I'm surprised you brought her all this way without binding or subduing her." Danae had known even at her tender age that the wounds on the elf were that man's way of "subduing" young mages.

Fayad had blinked, appalled at the man's words. "Caiaphas has never had a mage born there." It was his way of saying that he could have never used such tactics to take her there. He had married Danae's eldest cousin the spring before.

The other templar had grunted and grasped her upper arm tightly, "As you say. I've been at this for most of my life and I'll tell you; a harmless mage is an indisposed mage."

Danae recalled the uncomfortable look on her kinsmen's faces. They were bound by duty to do what had to be done, however unpleasant. Blood may have been thicker than water, but their duty to the Chantry had been thicker than blood. For as Danae had wondered how someone so mean looking could use such big words, something hard, round and metal had collided with her head. Her world had spun from the blow of that templar's sword pommel. As she had crumpled to the ground, losing consciousness, Danae remembered wondering how her kinsmen could have permitted this to happen.

She had not wanted this; she was only trying to protect the village from the bandits. When she had come to, the sun was setting on the horizon. She was in a small boat manned by an old man that reminded her of her grandfather. Her head had fallen limply to her right on the young elf's shoulder. An imposing fortress had come into view and the templar who had knocked her out leaned in on her left.

" Get a good look at it girlie. This tower is all you will know from now on."

Presently, Danae instinctively put her hand to the place where the knot on her head had long since healed. Recalling the words of that wretched templar made her shudder. She became aware of Sten's gaze on hers and the Warden returned it, careful to not betray her misgivings of returning to the Tower.

"Nostalgia serves no purpose." Sten announced, seeing past Danae's attempts, "You lived it once before, you have no need to live it again."

"The past serves as a reminder." Danae returned, sitting up straighter, "A testament for those who might repeat mistakes."

"One who lives in the past risks destruction in the present. "

At Sten's last remark Alistair fidgeted, paying more attention to the tension in the air than his motion sickness. His hands tapped on his thighs. "Now would be a good time to change the subject to cheese or something…" He muttered in a strained sing-song voice.

"So," Zevran quipped lightly as if chatting about the weather, "it would seem that those who built this keep were compensating for something, no?"

* * *

A/n: well…jolly good. I had this thought in my mind for a while and thought I would write it down. This is a companion piece to A Templar's Obsession. Alistair seems a little ooc to me but he only had one line so… please review.


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